


Top Shelf

by ardentaislinn



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Bartender, F/M, Flirting, Tequila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5625643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/pseuds/ardentaislinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's two minutes until closing, but Fitz still can't let a pretty woman drink alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Shelf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuburbanSun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/gifts).



Fitz was wearily wiping down the sticky bar top, varnished more from years of spilled drinks than actual polish, and waiting for the clock to tick over to 3am so he could call it a night. He still had about an hour of studying ahead of him before he hit the sack, and it had been a more stressful night tending bar than usual.

_ Two minutes to go. _

Of course, it was at that moment that the bell above the door jangled discordantly.

“We’re closed,” he said automatically, not bothering to look up.

“Not for another two minutes,” said a voice; young, female, and English. “Just give me three shots of tequila and I’ll be out of your hair in just a moment.”

Surprised, Fitz looked up, only to see the prettiest woman he’d seen in a long time wordlessly pleading with him. Fitz didn’t even stand a chance.

“Why three?” was the first thing to come out of his mouth. She took this as an invitation to step forward.

“I have done some previous experimentation based on some theoretical calculations that optimises my feeling from the alcohol without any of the negative effects.”

Fitz blinked. “So three is where you hit the sweet spot?”

“Essentially, yes.”

He nodded. Realising he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she walked in the door, he turned around and busied himself lining three shot glasses up on the bar. This wasn’t the kind of bar that attractive women generally visited, which was why Fitz liked it. The regulars were older men - career drunks - and didn’t tend to create nervous flutterings in his gut.

“And why do you need to get buzzed at three in the morning?” he asked, ignoring his wayward gut. Fitz had discovered early on in his bartending days that people mistook him for a good listener. Just because he didn’t reply to people, didn’t mean he was actually listening. He’d just ask a question and tune out, and apparently that was enough for some half decent tips. Still, he found himself genuinely curious about this woman.

After deciding on the top-shelf tequila, Fitz poured the clear liquid into the glasses, expertly filling them without spilling a drop.

“I got an email this morning,” she began, sliding into a bar stool. “Well, yesterday, I suppose. I didn’t know if it was good or bad news - it could have gone either way. I finally got the courage up to open it when I couldn’t sleep for thinking of it.”

“Bad news?” he asked.

She nodded. “I didn’t get the research grant I applied for.”

“I’m sorry. I know how hard they can be to get, and how essential they are.”

“You do?” she asked, clearly surprised.

Fitz smiled ruefully to himself. “I’m finally getting my PhD. I had some family and financial issues a while back, but now I work nights here so I can attend classes during the day. Funding is important to engineers, too.”

“I’m in BioChem,” she told him slyly. “I think my department loses in the funding stakes.”

Fitz laughed, and she looked so inordinately pleased by his reaction that he couldn’t help a warm swell within his chest. Their eyes caught for a moment. Embarrassed, Fitz broke eye contact to study the rag in his hand.

“What’s your name?” she asked him.

He looked up, once again caught in her gaze. “People call me Fitz. Yours?”

“Jemma,” she replied, a tentative smile on her face. “Well, Fitz. Will you join me?” She held up a full shot glass, her eyebrow raised in question.

“I don’t drink on the job,” Fitz replied, already reaching for one of the remaining glasses. He couldn’t let a pretty lady drink alone, after all. She grinned at him, and their gazes held as they each downed their shot.

The liquor was smoother than he expected, barely burning his throat as he swallowed.

“That’s actually good,” he said with some surprise.

Jemma laughed, her eyes dancing in delight. “You’ve never had tequila before?”

“Only the cheap and nasty stuff,” he replied as he filled their glasses again. She grinned, and Fitz found it was infectious.

She picked up her glass, but instead of downing it, she sighed melancholically and stared into the shot glass as if it would tell her a profound truth. This, Fitz had learned in his time bartending, was not a good sign.

“Do you want a distraction?” he asked her.

Her eyes left the shot glass to slide over his chest with a considering gaze. Fitz blushed furiously as he realised what he’d said.

“Not...I meant...If you want? But pool,” he managed to stutter out. The slow smile on her face told Fitz that she’d been teasing him. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“Pool sounds great,” she said, and downed her shot. Fitz followed suit, before coming out from behind the bar, locking the front door, and heading out the back to the pool room. Jemma followed dutifully.

\---

It was dawn before they left the bar. In the intervening hours they had talked of any and everything of importance, and Fitz’s first suspicious were confirmed: he’d never stood a chance. He was already halfway in love with her before the night was over.

They stood on the street outside the bar, the buildings bathed in the soft early light. Neither seemed willing to be the first to say goodbye.

“Thank you for distracting me tonight,” she told him eventually, her voice barely above a murmur. Fitz had a moment to wonder whether he was simply under some kind of magical spell, that would break the instant the two parted. He never wanted to find out.

“Believe me, it was my pleasure,” he replied. They lapsed into silence, their bodies minutely swaying towards each other, pulled by the force of so many other unsaid words gathered between them.

“Perhaps...perhaps we might do it again at a more reasonable hour?” she asked.

At her words, Fitz suddenly felt as if he could breathe for the first time. “I’d love that,” he managed to tell her.

They smiled, and he grasped her hand, not letting go until he’d walked her to her door and kissed her under the eaves of her home.

  
  



End file.
